Shlyukha
by AllMonstersRHuman
Summary: A victim of the underground sex slave trade takes a customer like none she's ever had before.
1. Stoli

**Author's Note:** _This is one of the two Six Ways to Sunday storylines I've had stored away in my head. It demanded to be written, I sincerely apologize to the readers of my other stories. Thank you guys for being so patient with me._

_In this one Harry's alter ego Madden is not present because writing an OC with a Russian accent was difficult enough, he'll be in the other one heavily though. As far as her accent goes I tried my best to walk a thin line between making it prominent and not making it annoying to read. Feedback and pointers on the accent would be appreciated. _

_I don't know if or when I'll continue this. I've obviously turned into one of those writers who has a tun of unfinished stories that I used to despise when I was only a reader. I hope you guys like it! :) _

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He's revolting, a fat middle aged balding business man with bad breath. He probably has children and a wife at home. Not that he cares while he's balls deep in inside her, he only cares about his own pleasure. They all do.

"Come on baby Stoli, gimmie that tight little pussy." he groans as his sweat falls into her eyes, as though she has a choice in the matter.

She lets out a few well practiced sounds, wrapping her legs tighter around his generous girth while he ruts into her, slamming his pathetic excuse for a dick inside her over used orifice. He paid double to have her without protection, another couple hundred to cum inside her. And as his face reddens even further and a trail of drool drips from his mouth onto her chest she knows he's close, that it's almost over. That it'll start all over again in fifteen minutes, maybe with someone worse.

"Menya ot tebya toshnit Vy otvratitel'ny ublyudok." _you make me sick you disgusting bastard. _she whispers in his ear, sending him over the edge.

Being forced to pretend she enjoys it is the hardest part. It makes her die inside.

Another day. Another disgusting man grunting and moaning on top of her. Another customer satisfied. She used to use the time allotted for freshening up in between clients to cry instead, hoping she would look too horrible to be selected. But they always chose her because of how young she was and she always got beaten for not looking presentable.

It was almost better when they stuck her with needles filled with drugs to keep her still. It was always easier when she didn't have to participate, more peaceful. She'd been there too long for that now, the marks in her arms faded and unused. She wasn't a big enough nuisance for them to waste that kind of money drugging her up anymore.

As the man zipped up and left the money on her dresser she rolled over in her bed, letting a few tears escape before she remade her face just scarce enough to avoid a caning. She missed her mother and sisters, the way the air smelt back in her county. The way fresh air smelt at all.

She sits at the vanity table yanking knots from her once illustrious dark hair, anything to keep from having to look in the cracked mirror a little longer. Anything to not have to look at the disgusting whore in it's reflective surface.

The red light comes on beside her door telling her it's time for inspection. Time for it to start all over again.

"Less rouge next time, not all men enjoy fucking clowns." the madam chides, sneering at a woman further down the hall of forever opening and closing doors.

The red cheeked woman is lucky, unable to be beaten for such a miniscule mistake. She's the kind of worker that gets to leave during the day or any time they wished. An American citizen who _chose_ this profession. A woman who willingly sold herself for money.

Not like her. A permanent resident. A slave.

As the madam makes her way down the line the girl at the end keeps her gaze on the wall in front of her, working to keep her body from shaking at the encroaching pain that is sure to come.

"Stoli you have forgotten to put on perfume. I can smell your dirty cunt." Madam snaps, finding no visible offence to punish her for.

"Porheps you add too mach vater." she retorted, immediately wincing at being unable to control her tongue.

She doesn't dare look up to see the demented glee in Madam's eyes at having a legitimate reason for torturing her. The thin hickory stick is used on any exposed skin to avoid damaging the face or red sparkly dress. The last stripe was especially swift, making her give a slight whimper as a slight line of blood wells up along her collar bone.

"You will be at the front where I can keep an eye on you." Madam growls, fisting her hair at the roots as she drags the girl along.

She stands in her place behind Precious, keeping silent as the madam reminds them all that Mr. Varga and his men are her most valued customers.

"They are to be denied nothing." she concluded, narrowing her eyes at the unruly girl second in line.

The worst part outside the bedroom came next. Being paraded out in a line like cattle for auction. Such was the protocol for one or two clients at a time. For a large group like this it was a free for all, the other girls flocking to whoever they thought had the most money. She always aimed for the one who looked the kindest. As kind as a man in a place like that could be.

As soon as they enter the presentation room her eyes sweep over each one, searching for who will violate her for the next hour or so. She recognizes them all except the one drinking milk instead of alcohol. He is young and attractive, the kind she knows Ginger likes to go for if the big spenders are taken. For once she thanks her lucky stars she is in front this time. Though her preferred place in the back had spared her many times if there were enough women already provided.

With Precious headed straight for Mr. Varga she thinks her trick is safe, hers for the taking as she steps forward towards him. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Ginger stepping out of line, towards the one in the powder blue suit, the one she wants.

Breaking protocol she quickens her steps from the flowing elegant stride they are supposed to maintain, an offence that would surely be punished later. In exchange for more pain she wins the client of her choosing. Pain that would be unnecessary thanks to a man snagging Ginger around her waist before she was even half way to the one she wanted.

Perching herself daintily despite the pain beside the golden haired man she noticed him inching away from her slightly, glancing from her face to his hands and then back again shyly. For a moment she fears he will find her distasteful. Which only had two outcomes. Either she would be selected by another man to participate with one of the other girls or she would be excused to her room until another customer arrived. She didn't know which was worse.

When he tried to refuse what they provided all together she was shocked, stunned into near silence until a sharp look from the madam reminded her of her duty to be appealing.

"Ples not bee shy, no bite unless you vant." she purred, blundering the American sexual innuendo.

After his boss very firmly insisted he "have something" as though the women were snacks he looked over at her shyly while the other men were lead away into various bedrooms.

"You're a..you're bleeding." he mumbled, raising his hand as though he intended to wipe the crimson liquid away.

But his hand recoiled and his fickle blue eyes were cast downward once more as though he remembered something last second.

"Come, make me bettar." she urged, rising from the lounge and capturing his reluctant hand as the madam watched.

Looking back as she led him down the hall where various sexual sounds could be heard from each door they passed, she was confused to see fear plainly displayed on his face. She couldn't understand it. Even if it was their first time young men were always excited to be at such a place, not scared.

With her door firmly closed behind them and her red service light turned out signifying she was occupied she began to undress slowly as he watched, doing her usual half hearted strip tease until she was left in only her panties, a fairly short show thanks to her lack of clothing to begin with. When her steel blue eyes turned to him he moved his eyes elsewhere like he wasn't paying to see it all, as though he'd rather not be there at all.

"You take clothings off nao." she told him with humor in her voice, crawling onto the bed as he stripped down to white briefs.

If not for the slight outline highlighted from a lamp she would have thought he didn't have a penis, having never seen one flaccid before, in or out of underwear.

"No shame, I see much smaller pee pees bafore." she lied, trying to reassure him as he nervously shifted from foot to foot.

She didn't understand why he laughed at that, putting it out of her mind she began to writhe on her bed, emitting fake moans and beckoning to him as she was taught to entice a man.

"Um could we..could we maybe just…talk? I'm not really in the mood." he admitted quietly, making her become silent and still.

"No money for Madam, I get mach t-trouble." she protested, fear at what would happen if she was short on her earnings at the end of the day making her voice waver.

"Oh no no no, you'll still get paid." he quickly told her when she sounded near tears, extending a wad of cash her way. "Here." he insisted when she only looked at the money like it would burn her.

"You no trick meh? No watch meh for Madam, tell her I not really do vork?" she asked suspiciously, rising one of her sharply angled brows at him.

"No, I won't tell her, honest. Just as long as you make them think that we…ya know." he promised, jerking his chin towards the bed so she understood what he meant.

"You fag, like man thing?" she wondered curiously. "Ve ave man downstors ef you like." she suggested as she deposited her money into a glass jar atop her dresser.

Harry almost fell over at her insinuation as he shimmied into his pants. "Ah..no, no men, thank you."

"Vhat den, you no like me?" inquired as she wrapped herself in a robe and he continued to dress, becoming slightly offended when in any other case she would have been delighted.

"Nah." he began, backtracking when he realized she was getting angry, thinking he didn't find her pretty. "I mean I like you, you're a beautiful lady." he offered, blushing and rubbing the back of his neck.

When he began to head for the door she panicked, telling him avidly that it was too soon for him to leave without ruining the deception in Russian before she realized it, rephrasing in English once his confusion registered in her brain.

"What's your name?" he asked, leaning back against the door to watch as she lit a cigarette.

"You vant whore or veal name?" she questioned, looking away from his absurdly colored suit to her barred window.

"B-both I guess." he stammered, taken aback by her darkened demeanor.

"She call me Stoli, like Russian vodka. Bad joke." she spat, literally spat. "My veal name Aleksandra." she continued softly, zoning out as memories of loved ones calling her by that name swept over her.

"Vhat you name?" she wondered aloud, not really focusing as he gave it.

They stayed quiet for a while. Her battling with an inner dilemma in light of the odd man-boy in front of her. Him dealing with a quarrel inside himself as well.

"Aleksandra can I ask you a question?" he requested, looking up from the cuticle he'd occupied himself with picking at in light of the stony silence.

"Da." she replied with a nod of her head, flicking her ash into a tray. "Russian for yes." she added when he only stared at her.

She watched warily as he approached the bed only to be relieved when he simply sat down across from where she was sitting cross legged.

"Do I seem…Do I seem normal to you..sexually?" he asked timidly, almost afraid to hear her answer.

"No mood for meh..no mood for man…" she began, thinking, looking him over, making him fidget. "Any gurl evar ghet you in mood?"

When Harry shook his head in the negative she continued to ponder.

"Aneemals? Dog, sheep, horse?" she inquired, laughing when his eyes bugged wide and his head shook double time.

"Anything?" she tried, tilting her head as she gazed at him and took a slow drag off her cigarette.

"Violence I guess." he confessed with a shrug, ignoring her flinch as he slowly reached out to touch her, making her skin sting a little as he swiped lightly at something. "And blood." he murmured, bringing his reddened finger away to examine closely.

"No good." she spoke sadly, making Harry move his eyes to observe the tapping motion she made against her temple while she slowly shook her head.

As their hour neared it's end Harry noticed how her breathing quickened, how her eyes kept darting from the door to him and then to the clock over and over. By the time they had ten minutes left she was practically shaking, water pooling in her eyes.

"You vith powarful men. You impor- import-…you ave power. Ples I beg you, ples tek meh vith you." she sputtered, her vastly improved English vocabulary failing her as she panicked and grasped onto the first ray of hope she'd seen in years.

"What do you mean take you with me? You work here, don't you have a work shift to follow or something?" he asked, trying to make sense of her desperate broken English, sensing the urgency in her tone.

"No. No vork. Slave. Other girls, thay vorkers, get some money. I slave, no money." she explained, forcing herself to speak calmly the best she could.

When he still seemed to not grasp the gravity of the situation she moved to reveal the chain and collar that were used to keep her captive during closing time and slow days, shaking it at him as his eyes widened in understanding.

"Four year a go man tell meh come to 'Merica, be big movie star, say evaryone love meh. He lie. He sell meh to man with most money, man pay big money for nevar touched gurl. After he use me first time, he sell me to Madam. I not vant to be whore, she make meh. Beat meh. Drug meh." she told him as she extended her arms to show him the track marks, the tears finally overflowing their lids, streaking down her face.

"You good man. First good man I evar see. Ples halp meh." she whispered, looking up at him with pleading pale blue eyes.

Harry's mouth was moving but he was at a loss for what to say, not a sound came from it before a knock sounded on her door.

"Your time is up sir." came the stern voice that made the girl in front of him cringe and cry harder.

"Okay, just trying to find my wallet." he yelled out, turning back to the devastated girl behind him who'd clutched the sleeve of his jacket at his words.

"Ples I do anything you vant. No leave me here. Another man vill come use meh after you leave, another one waiting right nao" she whimpered in a whisper, sure madam had her ear pressed against the door.

"I can't just take you, I have to think of a plan. I'll think of something." he whispered back, moving towards the door.

"No no no no, ples. Ples!" she sobbed loudly, moving to clutch the front of his suit, crying into his neck.

She was so hysterical at her one hope of freedom slipping away that she didn't notice the way he tensed at her touch, didn't realize he was extremely uncomfortable, only pressing herself to him harder as a fist pounded on the door thunderously.

"I'll come back for you, I promise." he whispered just before the door bust open and she was ripped away from him.

"Sir I am so sorry for her lack of professionalism." the madam apologized, twisting the girl's onyx hair painfully in her fist, making her yelp through her silent body shaking sobs.

"It's alright." Harry murmured, speaking to the mistress but looking at the girl, his answer holding a double meaning he made sure she grasped before taking one more glance at her watery arctic eyes and walking away.


	2. WARNING TO REEDUS WRITERS

**Author's Note: **Yesterday someone tried to pass my writing off as their own.

_(apologies for my language but I am still quite angry and hurt about it. It is a HORRIBLE feeling to have something so important to me stolen and trampled all over. I feel violated to put it simply.) _

They added a bit (_90% of it was my writing_) of their own shitty writing to my work, changed "Mac" to "Daryl", AND THEN submitted it to an innocent story blog on Tumblr, specifically asking for their user name not to be included in the post. Once the story blog gave me the username so I could inform other writers of what they're doing the coward deleted their blog.

I've added links to my author's section that lead to the posts on my personal blog which contain all the evidence and the name of the guilty blog.

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**A WARNING TO MY READERS: **If I ever see a single line of my writing used anywhere again I will stop writing publicly. I am not letting it get me down this time because I _really _don't want the rest of my respectful readers to suffer because of one asshole.

But I will not put myself through this a third time if it happens again.

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**A WARNING TO ALL REEDUS WRITERS: **In light of posting a very angry author's note to the story that the content was stolen from, I have been informed by a fellow writer that** many other writers in the Reedus fandom have had their work stolen recently. **All with the same 'delete and disappear' scenario.

And Tumblr's staff has informed me there's nothing they can do about it since the submitter blog deleted itself and the innocent blog respectfully deleted the stolen content right away. So this asshole just gets away with it.

This person will most likely make a new blog, steal more writing, and submit it as their own to another innocent fic blog.

**Look out for writing you recognize and if possible inform the rightful owner. **

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**AN APOLOGY TO MY READERS: **I normally never post author's notes without a chapter attached. I am sorry. But I needed you all to be aware. I am also sorry for the multiple false update emails to those who are subscribed to multiple stories of mine.

_This author's note will be deleted and added to the original chapter of each story once the next chapter is ready to be posted. _

_Thank you guys for reading and respectfully enjoying my work!_


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